Journey of Ric Heiden

All Rights Reserved © 2018, Rick Haydn Horst

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER FOUR

It took thirty-five minutes to arrive at David's home-away-from-home near Trafalgar Square, the likes of which deviated from my expectations. David lived in the penthouse suite of a fantastic hotel and had done so for ten years.

The spacious suite had many windows with splendid views, contemporary modern furniture filling the room, a dark maple dining table for six to the left, and a king-size bed toward the front of the building overlooking the best view, along with the balcony. I couldn't see the bathroom, but I would need it soon enough. It had many amenities one would find in a home, but its lack of a stovetop and oven disqualified the space as a flat.

"You live here?" I looked about the lavish suite to find Maggie on the couch, glass in hand, and a bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"Rick!" Maggie ran to me for her customary hug. She gasped. "

Qu'est-ce qu'ils vous ont fait?

(What did they do to you?)" She lightly touched my cheek. "I'm so glad you're okay." Maggie kept hugging me, but I just wanted to sit down.

"I have no wish to sound pretentious," said David, "but this place is an expensive dump. My real home is far superior. I'll get you some ice, Rick. Is either of you hungry? I can order room service."

Maggie and I were starving; tea and tiny sandwiches would only take someone so far.

"You think this is a dump?" I asked David.

"I would live in this dump any day," Maggie said, smirking.

"The furnishings I accept as typical of hotels," he said, "but I'm referring to the building structure and the lack of attention to detail. I would cringe with embarrassment if I built or owned this building. I know it sounds like I'm a snob, but if you live someplace long enough, you'll notice every single flaw."

I shrugged. "It looks like all the other buildings I've seen."

"No doubt," he said, "it's a sad state of the industry." He handed me the bag of ice.

We ordered dinner and sat in the living room. "Okay, let's get to business," I said, holding the ice bag to my cheek. "What happened after I disappeared?"

David insisted Maggie begin. "I had heard some noise in the hallway, but by the time I could investigate, it had stopped. I waited a couple of minutes for you, and then David came around the corner."

"I searched the building but couldn't find you," said David. "I called your mobile; it went straight to voicemail. You would not have left, so someone had to abduct you. I brought Maggie here in a taxi, just in case. With difficulty, I requisitioned a government vehicle and drove all over London searching for you. The tracer doesn't have a strong signal, so I had to get near you before it would register. I drove for several hours, growing more alarmed that I had no signal, but then I had an indicator on the tracer near the city airport. I kept driving and followed the blinking light until I reached you. I feel lucky to have found you at all."

"How long were you there before you shot that man?"

Maggie gasped, glaring at David. "You shot someone?"

"I moved into position just after he slapped you."

"It's okay Maggie, David saved me from a severe injury."

"The man was a brute; one punch might have killed Rick."

"Well, what did he want?" she asked.

I looked at David, not knowing what to say. Would David want to keep the portal secret from Maggie?

"He wanted the location of the portal," he said, "but Rick doesn't have that information."

What portal?" she asked.

"The portal will take you to Jiyū, my homeworld, around another star somewhere in this galaxy."

She turned to me with suspicion. "Is this British humor?"

Once dinner arrived, we ate at the dining table while David told Maggie the whole story, and omitted nothing, non-disclosure agreements be damned. David said the secret belonged to his people. No government had the right to co-opt it, mark it as their private property, and silence anyone with a gag order. They were interfering and making things difficult.

The conversation returned to the abduction. "It concerns me that the man I shot, Theo Roberts, had Clement O'Byrne as one of his contacts, and had received a call from O'Byrne only two days ago."

"Who's Clement O'Byrne?" I asked.

"O'Byrne is known as Lefty Handler, something he would deny," said David. "He is one-stop-shopping for criminal activity, as a heavy, a fixer, an assassin, whatever you need. O'Byrne used to take a more active role, but these days he sub-contracts others to do it for him, and he keeps his hands clean, so they can never arrest him. If Lefty is involved, then the American government hired him. It always had corruption, but since the dominionists came to power, it's gotten worse."

"Can we know the name of the man who got away?" I asked him.

David shrugged. "Theo may have the contact information on his mobile."

"What about the name on the slip of paper?"

David shook his head. "He didn't sound like a Helen to me."

I laughed. "I wouldn't think so. Will you call that number?"

"I was thinking about it, but that could cause trouble. I would prefer to know who owns the number first," David said. "I need to check it with the reverse directory."

The three of us sat on the balcony that overlooked an incredible view of the Thames for several hours and made proposals of what we could do to recover Cadmar's body. David said that the British government held many sites, but he hadn't known them all. They would require an autopsy laboratory and a body freezer. The location where they held Amaré had no such equipment. The government had an autopsy lab they used often, the main one everyone knew of, but that made them less likely to store it there. If they refused us permission to view Cadmar's body, or some other means hadn't presented itself, they had us stymied.

By 11:30 that night, we all felt exhausted. I hadn't blamed Maggie when she wanted to go home to sleep, and with the slim possibility of danger to her, David sent her home, paying the cab fare. I wasn't that lucky; they might know where I lived, so I couldn't go home no matter how much I wanted fresh clothes.

After we saw Maggie off, David hugged me for several minutes inside the door of the penthouse and whispered. "I've tried to understand why they abducted you."

"Any ideas?"

"They knew better than to kidnap me. Perhaps, they asked you on the off chance I told you. They would want the portal, but they would also want Cadmar's body, maybe they abducted you for leverage, to coerce me into obtaining it for them. I might have had an unpleasant phone call from them if I hadn't paid a call on them first. We kept our dating as rather cordial and low-key, but someone may know my feelings for you. How could they have known that?"

"You pretty much told me in the lab," I said, "what if it has a monitor?"

"No one monitors the room," he said. "Of course, that wouldn't mean someone wasn't listening."

"You hadn't mentioned the portal to me," I said. "How would the talking man know about it?"

"I don't know. We have nothing but speculation, not enough information."

I needed to clean up. After David gave me some soap and a toothbrush, he offered some of his clothes to wear on the way to the flat the next morning.

They had encompassed his bathroom in various dated and unattractive shades of blue ceramic. I saw a dozen or so cracked floor tiles. The builders left grout haze on the upper wall, which detracted from the entire bathroom's appearance. They installed the glass surround for the shower at an odd angle, and someone in the cleaning staff had used an abrasive on every tap, leaving them terribly scratched. I began to see why David referred to the place as an expensive dump.

When the time came for sleeping arrangements, David made a considerate and generous offer of the bed, while he slept on the couch like a proper gentleman. However, I felt that it made little sense for him to remain a gentleman the entire evening.

Displaying a bare muscular torso and wearing a pair of pull-on shorts like those he loaned me, he said goodnight on his way to the couch from the bathroom. As he passed where I sat on the bed, I grabbed his hand. "The living room is too far. What if someone scales the balcony and carries me off in your sleep?"

"Then I would save you again," he said without a hint of a smile. He waited there staring me in the eye for a moment. The dim light cast shadows on his handsome face and beautiful body, but the muscles of his torso couldn't compare to the thighs bulging from under his shorts. I stood and pulled him to me by his hand.

He wrapped his arms around me, but his eyes never left mine. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," I said.

"What does that mean?"

"I want to be with you."

"You are with me. I'm right here."

"Must I spell it out?" I asked, smiling.

"No, but this is a big step for you, and I never do one-nighters. How do I know you're ready?"

"Are you ready for this?" I asked.

"That depends on you," he said, but if we do this, we're mated; we belong together, and there's no going back."

"I want to be your mate. I want to be with you."

He held me close. "Permanently?" he asked. "I don't play around. This is a commitment that I take seriously."

"Permanently," I said. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

He kissed me and laid me back on the bed. He removed my shorts and his own. I saw him naked for the first time. It looked the same as my six-inch cut cock, but it had a larger knob. It certainly looked more than a mouthful.

He sucked mine for a few minutes ensuring not to make me cum yet. "You taste good," he said.

"I don't want to cum," I said. "I like to not cum."

"Why?"

"It keeps my motor running hot."

"You enjoy feeling horny all the time? Interesting. How about I rev your engine for you?"

He flipped me over urging me toward the headboard. He lay behind me on the bed and dug his face into my ass. I arched my back giving him as much access as he wanted. His tongue stimulating me for what I knew would come next. He would want to fuck me, and that's what I wanted most; it had been so long. He kept his face at my hole for half an hour.

"I think you're ready," he said. Right behind me, he pulled me up to my hands and knees. He tapped his cock on my saliva-soaked hole. "Do you want this?"

"Yes."

"Last chance to back out. Once it goes in, it's not coming out until I breed you, and there's no turning back. We're mated, and it can't be undone. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," I said. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm already your mate."

He pushed his cock in, and I hadn't fucked in years. He stretched me, and I could feel the head of his cock. Once he settled in all the way, he began to fuck me slowly with an ever-increasing pace, and then fucked me as hard as he wanted. He drew back to the enlarged head and rammed it back into me repeatedly, fucking me for longer than anyone else had. He pushed me forward onto my stomach and followed me down laying atop my back. His weight and muscles felt so good as he continued. I felt lost in the pleasure he gave me for I don't know how long. He wrapped his arms around my torso and held my shoulders for leverage as he thrust into me, and I could hear his rapid breathing in my ear.

"I'm about to breed you," he said, "and we will be mated."

He thrust into me one last time and held it there. I could feel the head expand further as he filled me. When he finished, his arms still wrapped around me, he turned us onto our sides, his cock slipping from me.

"I don't want to wear you out the first night," he said. "It will become easier from this point."

"I love you," I said.

"I knew that a week ago. That's why I chose you for my mate."

"Will it always be like this?" I asked his hot breath on my neck.

"No, it will be much better," he said. "We're just getting started." He kissed me.

"When we get to Jiyū-"

"Hush," he whispered into my ear, "you should sleep now."

The next morning the sun rose, and my sleep-deprived eyes hadn't liked it one bit. Even with the curtains closed, the penthouse had so many windows I would have found it impossible to sleep without a mask. David lay next to me on the crisp white sheets, and their temperature had reached that cozy I-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed level of comfort.

My experience of David seemed --I don't know-- unbelievable, maybe. Things felt right with me for the first time. I hadn't known where David would take me, but I knew then, I would go with him anywhere.

He called down the previous evening to order breakfast that morning while I scrubbed at the grime acquired during the abduction. Breakfast came promptly at seven o'clock in the morning. He ordered omelets, toast, fruit, juice, and tea. We had an enjoyable Sunday morning, just the two of us talking and laughing about anything that came to mind. Then the conversation moved toward his choice of accommodations.

"I live here because I lack domestic skills. I've tried my best, but my cooking would result in an insurance claim somewhere at the end of it."

"I can cook," I said, "but living in London has kept me out of practice." We sat and stared at one another for a minute because I hesitated to ask, but I had to know. "Tell me something, how can you afford this place? With all this space and that amazing view, you could pay a few thousand pounds a night."

My question hadn't fazed him. "Oh, that," he said. "Money has no meaning on Jiyū. I understand that to most people here, it seems extravagant to live in a hotel penthouse for ten years, but we rarely use words like cost, extravagance, expensive, affordable, or cheap in my world.

"We have an entire planet of the same elementary resources that Earth does. Whenever we need them, we have automated underground extractors. Robotic workers bring them to the surface and carry them to our small refinery. It has no monetary value; no one pays for them. Here on Earth, however, I rented the penthouse from the owner on the condition that they include all their services."

"What did you pay him with?"

"At the market prices of the time," he said, "the equivalent of one million pounds in gold every year."

"And it never occurred to you that might be excessive?"

He laughed. "I only gave him some gold. He was happy with it, but I feel like I wronged him. We may not use money, but we know what has value. I've had a roof over my head, clean clothes, a bed to sleep on, and food to eat for ten years. What I gave him just doesn't seem enough. I know that sounds silly to you, probably. I've never understood monetary value; it makes no sense to me. It tends to place a higher value on things that serve no real purpose."

He sounded like someone remorseful because he tricked Jack into trading his cow for some useless beans. He had an attitude as alien as I'd ever heard, but the things David told me, while strange, further endeared him to me.

A little past ten o'clock in the morning, I was inspecting my cheek in the bathroom mirror. The swelling had gone down after several ice treatments, but I had purple and yellowish discoloration near my eye. I came from the bathroom to find David making a phone call. He stood there, letting it ring. He shook his head.

"No answer," he said, ending the call, "I'm trying to reach Pearce in the United States, my American counterpart and best friend growing up on Jiyū. I hear from him every two weeks. I heard from him two Sundays ago at 10:00 a.m. on the dot, as I have the last ten years, but it's well past ten o'clock now. He hasn't called, and he doesn't answer his mobile. He has always called. Perhaps, they've caught him, and he told them about the portal."

David's mobile rang. We thought Pearce had called him, but I heard the voice of Amanda Newton from the Home Office when he put the call on speakerphone so that I could listen in.

"Hello, Amanda," David said, "you don't usually call me. Is something wrong?"

"I have a problem," she told David. "Can I speak with you?"

"Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"

"Please, not on the phone. I must see you."

"Alright, I can do that. I do have one request, though. I must bring Mr. Heiden with me. It's necessary; I'll explain that when I see you. Upon my word, you can trust him."

"If you say so, David. I trust your judgment; that's why I'm calling you. Where can we meet?"

"I have one of the company cars. We can pick you up in an hour. How about in front of the Royal Albert?"

"I'll be there," said Amanda.

I could guess David's plan. The Royal Albert Hall lay close to my flat. We would have ample time to drop by, change my clothes, and pack a bag.

When I first arrived in the UK, I lived out of a suitcase for way too long, and I hadn't liked the idea of going back to that. I was paying an absurd amount of money for the flat for it to end up a mere storage locker, but I had no alternative. The circumstance reminded me: the flat. If I intended to go with David, the flat had to go. I had no idea what I would do with it. Selling it on seemed reasonable, but that would have taken time, and I had the impression we wouldn't have time to get it off my hands.

Every flat in my building came with one designated parking space in a nearby garage, which I think made a significant contribution to its ridiculous price. We parked and walked to the flat. In its current form, the building's interior resembled a new structure. My two-bedroom flat hadn't had much of a view unless someone enjoyed gawking at the shops across the street. Inside, it came with the typical modern decor of many urban spaces. I never took the time to paint, so it remained the mid-toned matte grey preferred by the previous owner. The living room had a stunning electric fireplace built into the focal wall. I intended to use it that winter as I cozied myself on the loveseat to read the latest novel --the one feature I figured I would enjoy most.

As I changed into my dark gray, striped tweed suit, I grew curious, so I thought I would inquire, "What can you tell me about Amanda Newton?"

"I like her," he said. "I consider her a good work-friend, and I know she thinks a lot of me, although I wouldn't say we had a close relationship away from work. I usually follow her lead when it comes to how close we treat one another at any given time."

"That's considerate of you."

"Well, thanks to her, I have my job." David left the bedroom.

"What is your job? You never did tell me." I had to shout to David, who snooped about my apartment as I finished dressing and began packing.

"I have difficulty defining what I do," he said from the kitchen. "I don't even think the position has a name."

"Well, what constitutes the bulk of what you do there?"

"Oh, a little of this, a bit of that. I call myself 'helping,' but people have referred to me as all sorts --Amanda Newton's pet project, a bloody nuisance, the British government's Dutch uncle." I heard him inspecting the contents of my refrigerator.

"Dutch uncle?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"I'm not that bad. I think I acquired that one from an incident years ago. Mr. Haywood had it coming, and I know he still hates me."

I finally finished packing and dragged my suitcase into the living room. "So, should I believe you lack popularity where you work?"

"Popularity is only important in beauty contests and elections," he said. "I have something far more valuable."

"And that is?"

"Their grudging respects. I've earned every ounce of it. Never underestimate the power of the respect people give you, regardless of how they feel about you otherwise. It's kept me at a job that has no name, doing something I've enjoyed, almost nine years."